Years
by the-angel-of-iwashi
Summary: A corner bar in a busy city wouldn't be the best type of hangout, but it's good for coping. Based on a headcanon of mine.


The bar wasn't the most lovely of places, but it was a place people could go to if they weren't wanting to be interrupted. Cabernet music crackled over fading speakers, mixing in with the noise of a color tv playing the news. The smoky atmosphere from cigarettes tainted the place, causing noses to itch.

The man in black at the bar shot back another glass of bourbon, running a hand through his equally black hair. A pair of glasses rested on the bar near him, and his hand moved from his hair to rub at his face.

This wasn't going to help, but at least he could cope.

The noise of the door to the bar opening and shutting with the bell dingle didn't even snap him out of his focus. Neither did the noise of a chair scooting back beside him.

"You cut your hair," the man beside him sat a white cowboy style hat down on the bar next to the glasses. The first man snorted, a faint smile coming to his lips as he pulled his hand away.

"It was getting hard to manage," he replied.

"You thinking about growing it back out?"

"Eh, maybe."

The bartender slid another glass to the second man, and the first handed him a bottle, which he filled it with.

"How's Sarah?"

"Doing good, I think. Still working on her book."

"Kelly back on the gymnastics team?"

"Well, if you can kill a raptor with those moves, I should sure hope so."

The door jingled again, and a woman slid into the chair next to the second man, giving a small wave at the first.

"Hello Ian."

"Hey Ellie."

"What, she gets a 'hey' but I don't?" The second man asked with a chuckle. Ian rolled his eyes.

"You started talking first, Alan."

"Fair enough."

There's silence between the three of them, a quiet understanding. A clink of glasses, synchronized drinking, and small chatter. How lives were going, how books were being written, things of that sort. Only to be interrupted by a line of the color tv hanging over the bar.

" _... The transport of the tyrannosaur and its infant is finally to make port on Isla Sorna after days of travel. The navy and coast guard escort is fanning out around it, to be careful to not repeat the incident in San Diego recently…"_

All eyes of the three were on the screen, but each had vision elsewhere. Alan could see the rex coming after the flare in his hand. Ellie could see the dinosaur stomping closer and closer to the already speeding jeep. And Ian? All he could see was the teeth, too close to him for comfort.

But each could hear the faint echo of a prehistoric roar echoing in their ears.

* * *

It's another night at the bar, and this time Alan was there first. He looked worse for wear, Ian noticed. The second thing he noticed was the raptor claw Alan was fidgeting with.

"They made you go back too, huh." he said, sliding in next to him.

"... Just a couple of parents looking for their kid." Alan's gaze never left the claw, even after Ellie pulled in next to him.

"Your lucky I saved your ass."

"You- You saved him?" came Ian's stutter, and Ellie and Alan both nodded.

"Satellite phones aren't as useless as you think, Ian." Ellie responded, shooting back a glass. The man snorted, rolling his eyes again and following suit.

"Never helped me any."

"You didn't have to dig through fresh dinosaur shit to get to it," Alan said, and just as Ian opened his mouth for another quickfire sarcastic comment, he continued, "and yes, I did wash my hands after it. Very thoroughly, I might add."

* * *

They'd grown older, a little greyer, but the aftershocks of the island still lingered. There was no forgetting nights spent being hunted, watching people die. The dreams never faded, despite the years flying by.

But this, the thoughts that were coming back as they watched the tv over the bar, was just like that all over again.

"... Oh my God," came Ian's hushed whisper as the telecaster came on screen, a chipper lady with a dental commercial worthy smile and a freshly pressed suit.

" _People are flocking by the_ _thousands_ _to witness the opening of the new Jurassic World park on Isla Nublar, sponsored by the Masrani Global Corporation. Despite the company's histories in the past of reckless behavior regarding these animals, the public can now rest assured that they will be safe and get a chance to see real live dinosaurs up close, thanks to today's technology being able to hold these creatures in ways that John Hammond would've never dreamed-"_

"I give it a few months." Ian's comment, and the sound of the glass hitting the bar, pulled Alan and Ellie from the tv.

"Should you really be betting on something like this?" Ellie fumed as Ian frowned.

"We're the only ones who ever say otherwise. Might as well."

The other two are silent for a moment, before Alan sighs, raising his glass a little.

"I'll be generous. Let's try a year or so."

Ellie groans as the two men clink glasses and drink, burying her face in her hands. "You two are hopeless."

"Do you at least have a say?" Ian asked, turning to her. After a second, Ellie sighs.

"... Two years."

"Chaos rules. It's going to be a few months. This is a bad idea."

"And _again_ with the chaos! My God, do you never stop?"

"I _do_ study it for a living, you know."

"This is such a bad idea…"

"Like taking a T-Rex to San Diego bad?"

"Not _that_ bad, but still pretty bad…"

"Winner of the bet gets paid ten by each who loses."

"I'll take those chances."

"I, uh, I think I will too."

 _Clink._


End file.
